


doors open like arms

by wearealltalesintheend



Series: Tumblr Prompts [15]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Gen, Loki (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Unintentional Redemption, hela is, lets go with learning how to be a sister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:14:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22802362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearealltalesintheend/pseuds/wearealltalesintheend
Summary: “You’re the worst,” Thor pinches the bridge of his nose once again, and Loki sees Hela cocking her head, eyeing them with amused curiosity, “why are you baiting her to kill us? We have just had a conversation about recklessness. Mainly, you complained about mine. I feel entitled to complain about yours now, considering you lump my life with yours on the line.”“I was not baiting her,” he explains impatiently, they do not have this kind of time to be idling, “I was merely pointing out it is to her advantage to keep us alive. Forgive me for assuming she uses her brain, unlike you.”“Are you ever going to come up with a better argument than calling me an idiot? It’s been centuries, brother, surely you must have a better comeback by now–”“I will stab you–”A sound, harsh and sharp, interrupts their bickering, and Loki is shocked to find it’s Hela laughing. It is not anywhere nice or reassuring, but he wouldn’t call it unpleasant. “I must admit, this is entertaining. Are you always this petty?”“No,” says Loki while Thor says, “yes.”*or, Thor returns to Asgard a little sooner, secrets are aired a little earlier, and somehow, that makes all the difference.
Relationships: Hela & Loki & Thor (Marvel), Hela & Loki (Marvel), Hela & Thor (Marvel), Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Series: Tumblr Prompts [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1296797
Comments: 26
Kudos: 821





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so, I know Ragnarok came out like, years ago, and we have all moved past the thing that was Endgame, but. I just wish we've got more family moments with them! So thank you, anon, for sending me this prompt.
> 
> Again, I hope people enjoy this.

It begins to rain halfway into the play, a fine dripping of water that stubbornly refuses to pass, stays as a grey cloud above the palace and forces him to move the play inside the halls as soon as the first act is done. 

Perhaps, that should have been his first sign that his day would only decline from them on, but Loki had only frowned at the sky then– like he would tell Thor later on, he’s not a witch, he can’t see the future. 

If he hadn’t grown complacent in his deception, if he hadn’t settled on the boredom of his role, if he hadn’t believed himself safe in the stupidity of the court, then maybe he would have remembered what always follows the rain.

Thor is in a mood when he finds him in the throne room.

Surtur’s crown hangs from his hand, heavy and dusted with soot, and Loki knows at once that he’s been found out. And he wouldn’t even see his play past the first draft stages, oh well. 

Privately, Loki feels traitorously relieved to see his brother– never let it be said things are boring whenever Thor is around if only because of his sheer inclination of seeking trouble whenever it fails to find him on its own, and for the past couple years, the taste of ruling has soured on his tongue, grown stale with the apathy of court life and the dullness of its interminable meetings over inane matters discussed by asinine people.

Still, for appearance’s sake and  _ god forbid,  _ to keep Thor from getting any  _ ideas  _ on his head, Loki calls for the guards, makes a show of calling his brother mad and crying treason.

It works about as well as expected and Loki admits he could have thought this a little more through. “Come on, brother,” Thor says, arm outstretched waiting for Mjolnir. If he pays attention, Loki can hear the sizzling of the hammer. 

“Fine,  _ fine,”  _ Loki easily wrenches himself away, less because he believes Thor would truly allow for Mjolnir to hit him and more to keep some sense of dignity and control over this quickly escalating situation, “I yield!”

A second later, Mjolnir is in his hand and thunder bounces off the walls.

It’s a testament of Thor’s temper and Loki should not push him further, not when he could be thrown into the dungeons for a lot more than treason now, but Loki has never been very good at making good life choices, now has he?

He grins, opening his arms, “surprise, brother, I am alive!”

Hurt and irritation flicker through Thor’s eyes and if he had been anyone else, perhaps Loki would feel guilt under his betrayed gaze. He’s not, though, he’s not anyone else and he’s not one for sentimentality, not since he learned how to  _ survive,  _ and besides, Thor has evolved to looking  _ annoyed  _ now. “Loki–”

His sentence is never finished.

The palace has stood true and tall for millennia, for thousands of years even before any of them were born, one could imagine it’s been there before  _ Odin  _ himself had been born, and it’s been subject of renovations many a time since then.

In none of those did anyone think of making sure it would withstand, well,  _ Thor. _

The murals, old and brittle as they were, had not been made to survive indoor lightning or even the aftershocks. Before Thor can even start his undoubtedly  _ riveting  _ speech, they crack and crumble, falling to the floor like cherry blossoms in the spring.

“Did you know,” he starts and falls silent, unable to look away to the bloody horrors revealed underneath the idyllic portraits from before. While he has never considered himself squirmish, the sight fills him with cold dread, a nauseating sense of doom that permeates the air like dust particles.

“I think,” Thor says, his anger gone from his voice, replaced by a hesitant uncertainty as he, too, takes in the painting of a woman not much older than the both of them, leading an Asgardian army and placed at Odin’s right hand.

“We need to talk with the All-Father,” Loki concludes for him, too unease with this new-found revelations to wonder about the repercussions of his own actions.

In the face of what must be yet another dirty little secret of the All-Father, what is a little lie and mischief, anyway?

*

“I can’t believe you,” Thor says as they make their way to the room given to them by the girl at the front desk, sounding very much resigned in a way that makes it look like that  _ yes, he could very well believe it.  _ “Of all the places,  _ this  _ is where you imprisoned our father in?”

_ “Your  _ father,” he counters reflexively, mind still preoccupied with frankly bigger things, “and it is not a prison, the humans leave their elders here as well. This house had  _ glowing  _ reviews, in fact.”

“You are impossible,” Thor continues as if not hearing his perfectly sound explanation, “yet again you survive the impossible and what is the first thing you do? Overthrow father and build yourself some ridiculous statues.”

“Now, you’re just being  _ rude, _ ” Loki begins to take offense, but then they are in front of the door and they will have to come in, face the Odin and all the complicated feelings he brings, and ask questions he doubts Thor knows how to word. 

The urge to flee is strong; Loki exhales, smoothes his hands pointedly not curled into fists.

“Well, go on, then,” he gestures for Thor to enter first, mockingly raising his eyebrows, and slips into careful indifference as he follows his brother into the room.

Odin is sitting by the window, watching the traffic outside with sunlight illuminating his face, warming the quilt he has thrown over his legs. It strikes Loki how very old he looks this way, how different from his memories. Maybe Midgard has this effect on their family, changing them fundamentally in places burrowed deep in their bones, impossible to shake off.

“My sons,” Odin says, and his voice, too, is frail, weary and worn thin, beckoning them closer with a wrinkled hand. It’s so jarring, Loki doesn’t have the presence of mind to correct him. “I am glad to see you while I still have some time left.”

Well, that’s just depressingly ominous. 

Thor makes a distressed sound, crouching in front of his father to look at him closer, and even Loki is not heartless enough not to look away from the grief on his eyes. “Father,” he says, “do not speak like that, it is not your time yet, it cannot be.”

His speech is closer to its original cadence, Loki notices, less infected with Midgardian terms and wordings, and wonders idly if he notices the difference at all. Unsure where to place himself in this reunion, Loki clears his throat, “we have questions, All-Father.”

Odin’s gaze settles on him, intense and unfairly melancholic, and Loki wishes he could muster his old anger as fiercely as before. “Loki,” Odin smiles, age and sadness pulling at the corners of his lips, he’d never been one inclined to have laughter lines, “I have failed you in many ways, but in this, I have failed you both. You come to ask of Hela, do you not?”

“Is that her name?” Thor asks, worry and curiosity briefly overthrowing his hesitation, “we have seen the murals underneath the paintings. Who is she, father? What is the meaning of those images?”

It seems, to Loki, pretty clear what the old murals seem to represent, or did Thor think Asgard came to rule the Nine Realms by asking politely? Still, he keeps quiet in the interest of knowing the heart of the matter all the sooner, not bothering to wonder how Odin knew why they were there– he supposes, after all, not many things could persuade them to work together, not anymore, not after everything.

And yet, as Odin speaks of their blood-soaked past, Loki finds himself hypocritically disgusted by the carnage and cruelty of their wars, and perhaps even more so, by this charade of peace and charity they had been playing in after Odin decided, in his  _ oh-so-infinite  _ wisdom, to abruptly change his ways.

“She has been secluded away since then,” Odin finishes with a miserable shake of his head, “and she will be released once I am gone.”

How very like him to discard his child like a broken toy, Loki thinks, bitter over a sister that isn’t even his, not by blood and certainly not by being raised together. If anything, the only thing they have in common is their failure to meet Odin’s standards. Did he even speak to her before making up his mind? Did he try to reason, to reach her before tossing her away into a barren realm, alone to stew on her anger?

_ Did mother know? _

Distantly, Loki registers Odin speaking of preparing for war, meeting Hela with all the power they have on hand, even stooping so low as to ask for Thor’s little human friends for help. Something about it doesn’t settle right with him. 

Wasn’t this what started this mess in the first place?

Isn’t war the thing that has sent her spiraling?

Besides, if the Valkyrior couldn’t stop her, what hope have them of faring any better?

Faintly, in a voice that sounds so much like mother’s his chest aches with a familiar pain, he wonders what would have changed if Thor had not insisted on being stupidly stubborn on caring about him in Svartalfheim, even after New York, even after  _ New Mexico.  _

Irritatingly, he  _ has  _ been thinking of Thor as his brother for quite some time now, long enough for him to wonder if he had ever really stopped. His anger has dwindled, what once was a wildfire, has been muted into resigned fossilized coal. The ambers are still there, but it doesn’t burn him anymore, doesn’t feel like it’s going to overflow out of his body and spread to the world around him, doesn’t make him want the world to burn with him.

Even more so, he wonders how much of New York had been solely him and how much had been brought on by the Void, by– by  _ Thanos.  _ Falling from the Bifrost had been relieving, then terrifying, then lonely. It had not done him any favors and it had not left him yet.

What has this  _ confinement  _ been doing to their sister?

“We must talk to her first,” he finds himself saying, interrupting whatever battle plans Odin and Thor had been drawing, “if she has been cut off from all the realms for so long, how can we know anything at all?”

Thor looks at him as if he lost his head. In all fairness, there have been several opportunities where he could have. “Are you mad?”

“There is no talking with Hela,” Odin laments, in his most pious voice, most  _ regretful,  _ “she cannot be reasoned with, we must prepare for war and pray to the Norns.”

“Yes, because you have always been so successful at speaking with your children,” Loki tries not to sound bitter, not to sound like he’s counting himself into that lot, “forgive me if I don’t take you for your word entirely.”

“Loki,” Thor sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose like he does when he thinks Loki is being unfairly difficult. Strangely, when he speaks again, it is not to tell him off. “Father, he has a point. You have tried and you have failed, but you have also failed in that regard with both of us in the past and yet here we are. I have not tried to start any wars recently and surprisingly, neither has Loki. How can we be sure Hela can’t be brought around as well?”

Odin remains silent for a long time, lips pursed in his distaste, and Loki carefully does not show his surprise at Thor’s support. Begrudgingly, it warms him further than any of the All-Father platitudes. Then, finally, “I am old and weak in my age, I do not have the strength to argue much longer with you both. If your mind is set in this recklessness, I cannot stop you, but I will not aid you either. If you wish to pursue this course of action, seek Heimdall, he shall open a door to her realm with my aid if he so decides.”

Rising, Thor gives his father a solemn last look, gone is the blind worship that used to dwell there. “We shall. I don’t pretend to understand a time long past, but I have to say, father, I can’t see how sealing our sister away and writing her out of history has helped any.”

Once it’s clear no answer will be forthcoming, Thorn turns away to him, determination on his expression. “Brother, you know more of Asgard’s current situation than me– where can we find Heimdall?”

“Erm,” Loki hopes his smile is sheepish enough not to incur Thor’s wrath as he says, “about that, I might have exiled him for some time now. I never did try to give chase, so I cannot guess at his whereabouts now.”

Thor pinches the bridge of his nose again, sighs.

*

“My princes,” says Heimdall, placidly as ever, where he stands at his usual place with his sword as if he had never left at all, as if Loki had not stripped him of his job, as if he hadn’t needed to leave his homeland behind for the past two years. 

“Heimdall,” Thor smiles, and claps him on the back, his grin falling into a grimace not too long after, “do you know why we seek you?”

Just in case, Loki decides to silently take his place out of reach of Heimdall’s sword, just in case there are some hard feelings over his exile. 

“You wish to visit Hela in her prison,” he nods, stoic and grim, and his hands twitch on the hilt of his sword– surely a sign of overwhelming anxiety, coming from Heimdall. “I can take you there and I can bring you back, but I cannot promise what else might come with you, that is not the way gates work.”

“You think she might try to return with us,” Loki guesses. Unfortunately, it is a very good point and a very real possibility, one they must never let come to pass, not if she is as mad as Odin paints her to be. “You will be watching us, will you not?”

Heimdall looks at him with his golden eyes and Loki has the uncomfortable feeling he’s being bared to his soul. “Aye, my prince, I will.”

“Then you’ll know if we succeed or not,” Thor catches on to his plan, nodding along, “if there’s even a chance she’ll come to lay waste to Asgard, do not bring us back.”

This could quite possibly become a suicide mission, he realizes, now that he has time away from Odin to go over his logic, separate it from the bitterness that unfailingly rises whenever the All-Father is around. What if Hela does not want to be reasoned with, not anymore? 

They could very well be too late.

One might wonder why he is still insisting on being a part of this at all, he is no Aesir and he is no Odinson, he has no obligation to fix Odin’s messes.

Thor’s pained voice murmurs over Heimdall’s as he explains their reasoning, their plan in not enough details and too much sentiment.

Loki curses himself in his head and loudly cuts in to point out exactly how wrong Thor is.

*

The realm is a wasteland in greying shades.

Nothing on sight but dark sand for miles, dunes and dunes of it, black against the clouded sky, and the air smells faintly of smoke even though there’s no fire burning nearby.

It is a dead place made for dead people and it makes him wonder what it says about their sister that Odin thought fitting to send her here.

In but seconds, they no longer have to wonder: Hela stands before them, tall and regal, her dark hair and dark clothes and dark smile not unlike her prison. “Brothers,” she says, and her eyes sparkle with  _ something–  _ rage? Jealousy? Hate? Hurt? He cannot identify, it’s gone too quickly, replaced with an indifference too perfected not to be entirely false. “To what do I owe the  _ pleasure  _ of your visit? I’d ask if father dearest is gone, but if that were the case, we would not be having this conversation here-- I'd dare say, we would not be having this conversation _at all._ ”

The hatred in her voice is unmistakable, but so is the pain, the betrayal, and Loki trades a look with Thor– perhaps, if it still hurts, then she still cares, then there’s still hope. “We come not in the All-Father’s order,” he dares speak, keeping his own tone carefully neutral, “or his blessing, for that matter.”

“We have only learned of you today, sister,” Thor joins him, earnest as he is bound to ever be in the face of a sibling he can save, “that’s why we’re so late. If we had known, we would have come sooner.”

Despite Thor’s pitch having more information, it is on him that Hela focuses on, eyes calculating. “You call him All-Father. I thought you my brother as well since you were here with him, was I mistaken?”

Well, shove him under the bus, why don’t you.

“In a manner of speaking,” Loki decides on, settling for a more diplomatic answer, one that wouldn’t start Thor in one of his tirades and would perhaps gain him some favor in Hela’s eyes. “Odin stole me from my planet after his battle had ended and raised me alongside Thor. I can’t say I’m overly fond of him or inclined to call him father.”

“And why is that? Did he discard you after you were done being useful, that does seem to be his way.”

Loki smiles. It is not a nice smile and out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Thor send him nervous glances. “No, I cast myself away before he could.”

“Sister, we have come not to talk about the past–”

“Not now, brat,” she waves Thor off with one disinterested motion of her hand and it’s such a jarring sight, it does manage to shut him up. “I remember your insufferable wailing, few things change, I see. Now tell me, if you are not my brother, who  _ are  _ you?”

“I am Loki,” he says, pretends it does not sting to stop his introduction there, “and my brother and I have come to hear your side of the story.”

That throws her off, Loki can see in the way she cannot quite mask her surprise. Her eyebrows rise and her lips turn into a cruel smile, “is that so? And who says I want to tell it? Perhaps I would like it better to kill you both, watch your blood paint a little color in the sand. This place drains on my power, that is true, but I am still stronger than any of you.”

There’s a warning there, but there’s information, too. They hadn’t known how Odin kept her locked up, exactly. If she is weakened, then they are already safer than previously thought– not that there’s much comfort in that, they had not been safe  _ at all  _ before. 

Except, if she wanted them dead, she could have done it already. She didn’t have to show herself to them or even deign to listen to what they had to say. She didn’t have to ask questions or tell Thor to shut up.

If Hela is anything like them, like  _ him,  _ she must be bored out of her mind here.

They must be the most interesting to happen in thousands of years.

“You could,” Loki begins cautiously, “but then you would be back to the same state you have been for the past millennia. You are right, Odin is weakened,” at his side, Thor makes a noise. Loki ignores him, “but who is to say he won’t recover? He could be slipping into the Odinsleep as we speak and you of all people know from how much closer to death he has returned. Would you rather stay in your greying world– which, I can tell, is just  _ bursting  _ with entertainment– or take the opportunity to air your grievances with the All-Father?”

“You’re the worst,” Thor pinches the bridge of his nose once again, and Loki sees Hela cocking her head, eyeing them with amused curiosity, “why are you baiting her to kill us? We have  _ just  _ had a conversation about recklessness. Mainly, you complained about mine. I feel entitled to complain about yours now, considering you lump my life with yours on the line.”

“I was not  _ baiting  _ her,” he explains impatiently, they do not have this kind of time to be idling, “I was merely pointing out it is to her advantage to keep us alive. Forgive me for assuming she uses her brain, unlike you.”

“Are you ever going to come up with a better argument than calling me an idiot? It’s been  _ centuries,  _ brother, surely you must have a better comeback by now–”

“I  _ will  _ stab you–”

A sound, harsh and sharp, interrupts their bickering, and Loki is shocked to find it’s Hela laughing. It is not anywhere  _ nice  _ or  _ reassuring,  _ but he wouldn’t call it unpleasant. “I must admit, this  _ is  _ entertaining. Are you always this petty?”

“No,” says Loki while Thor says, “yes.”

“Delightful,” Hela grins, lips pulling back to reveal a row of white teeth that looks too sharp in this half-light, “I will refrain from killing you today, but know this,  _ brothers,  _ once I am out of this wretched place, I  _ will  _ destroy Asgard and everything in its wake.”

Loki looks at Thor. 

Thor looks back.

This is a good compromise for a first meeting, wouldn’t you say?

“Eh,” Thor shrugs, “we shall work out the details later. Now, tell us, sister, your tale and spare no detail.”

Taking in her seeming flair for the dramatics, Loki does not think it wise to ask her not to spare any details, but he only sighs, resigning himself to spend the rest of his day on this nightmarish desert.

*

Hela does not kill them on the first day and she does not try to follow them back when Heimdall opens the Bifrost, although Loki isn’t sure how much of that is because she cannot do so with her powers lessened.

Still, she gives them her side and it’s just as much of a frightening tale as Odin’s was, full of glorified victories and ruthless battles. Her words drip enough blood that he almost understands why Odin thought necessary to lock her and throw away the key.

_ Almost. _

*

“Tell me, brother,” she says on the second visit, her voice sounding less like the clinking of swords in a battlefield, “how is my hammer?”

Thor pales. “Right, about that–”

They leave pretty quickly after that.

*

Days go by with the wind and Loki finds he is not as resentful to having Thor crowned king as he thought he would be, as he had been once upon a time. He wishes he could say it has all to do with his time as king himself, the boredom and the monotony, but he knows better. Unfortunately, he knows better.

It is extremely annoying.

As for their sister, and it irritates him to no end that he is, in fact, thinking of Thor’s megalomaniac sister and his sister as well, she hasn’t tried to kill them yet, most likely because Odin’s magic has sealed her power for now. Of course, Thor likes to think they have been– building a rapport.

“She hasn’t threatened us this time,” Thor points out, “that’s progress.”

“Or maybe she thinks it is implied,” he sighs. This might have started as his idea, but he certainly did not think it would go this far. Or that he would have avoided the dungeons this far.

Or that he would still be there.

Maybe they are all surprising each other these days.

*

“So you have given up on killing him?” Hela asks, watching with bewildered eyes. Today, Loki has come alone, left Thor in one of his interminable meetings and endured Heimdall’s all-knowing gaze on his back, steady and unnerving. For some reason, Hela has taken this as an invitation to grill him about his story. “Why?”

She has a way of finding the heart of the matter and tearing it out into the open.

“It is complicated,” he says, sitting down in the newly conjured chair, “but blaming anyone else for Odin’s faults did not bring as much satisfaction. And this Thor is not the one who slighted me in our childhood, there is no fun there either.”

Hela hums. “Perhaps. But I think that is not why. You are a sentimental fool, brother.”

The tea he had brought with him warms his hands, but Loki still feels unsettled all the way back to the Observatory.

*

“I cannot believe you gave her a plant,” Loki says, shaking his head and feeling stupid just thinking of the stupid cactus in the stupid yellow vase, “what did you think that would accomplish?”

Thor shrugs. “Taking up hobbies is a good first step.”

*

Knitting, Thor decides, is a good second step. Predictably, he is wrong about that just like Loki imagined he would be. 

When Hela stabs his brother in the shoulder with the knitting needle, Loki laughs and notices she could have gone for much more fatal spots.

Perhaps this might truly be progress.

*

Odin is not getting any better.

They can only hope  _ progress  _ is enough when the seal is broken.

*

Of course, there not only good days. If anything,  _ most  _ days end up with Hela raging over something or other and swearing vengeance on Asgard, and Loki tries not to think about it, but they  _ are  _ running out of time.

They have to make a decision soon– will they wait for Hela as a lost sister returning home or an enemy that could bring about the end of everything? 

  
  


Both choices are too dissonant from each other, two ends of a scale so far apart, they probably should not be part of the same scale at all. A few days after Thor found him in Asgard, he had cornered him in his room, his speech vastly different from before.  _ Maybe you’ll always be the god of mischief,  _ he had said, for once not sounding like anything at all,  _ but you could be more.  _

Then, he had not exiled him from Asgard but had made very clear that should Loki wish to leave, Thor would not stop him. He had seemed surprised to find Loki still there in the morning.

Decisions, decisions– it seems everything is about  _ choosing  _ lately. 

“There is a Midgardian saying,” he says now as they make the slow walk back to the palace, covered in the black sand of Hela’s prison, “that says  _ the road to hell is paved with good intentions.” _

Thor’s eyebrows rise. “Never thought I’d hear you quoting humans, brother.”

“In this case,” Loki shrugs, dusting himself off to keep himself casual, careful to betray as little as possible of how much thought he’s been giving this entire situation, “it has its merits.”

Thor hums agreeably, wholly unbothered by the sand. “True. Do you think we are making a mistake by trying to speak with Hela?”

What Loki really thinks is that he wishes people would stop asking him so many damn questions with complicated answers. “As a king, maybe. As her brother? I think you would not have forgiven yourself if you had not tried this first.”

For a long time, Thor doesn’t speak again. Then, “I really hope there are no more murals underneath those.”

*

As Odin weakens, Hela strengthens.

Or so they find out when they are greeted by inhuman growling as soon as the Bifrost fades. No more than a few steps away, a wolf larger than any horse snarls, hungry eyes trained on their throats. 

“Hm,” Thor clears his throat, “sister?”

Hela, who had been petting its head serenely until now, glances up lazily. “Yes?”

“There did not use to be a wolf in here yesterday,” Loki points out, “I am fairly sure I would have noticed if there were a wolf in here yesterday or any other day for that matter.”

“Oh,” she says, and for the first time since they learned of her, Hela smiles a smile that is not full of sharp teeth and hunger. She smiles and it’s just a smile, it’s  _ nice,  _ it’s almost  _ happy.  _ “I was able to call for Fenrir this morning.”

Thrown off by the jarring sight, Loki nods mutely, while Thor returns her grin with one of his won, bright and excited, “he is a mighty companion indeed! May I pet him?”

_ “Did you just ask to pet the giant wolf–” _

“You may try,” Hela ignores him, waving Thor closer. With her track record, it really is a gamble whether she means for her pet wolf to eat him or not. “He will probably not bite.”

Approaching slowly, Thor reaches a hand, telegraphing his intentions loudly not to startle the animal, and to Loki’s utter disbelief, the wolf actually does cease its infernal snarling, ears dropping, and butts its head against his hand.

Absolutely ridiculous.

“Did you know, sister,” Thor says, and his voice takes a dangerous turn,  _ teasing,  _ which means Loki is probably not going to like whatever comes out of his mouth next, “that on Midgard, the humans think Loki is Fenrir’s mother?”

“And here we go again,” he rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, huffs.

“It’s true,” Thor continues, and Hela  _ laughs,  _ and it sounds less and less like broken glass and more and more like laughter. “They also blame him for Sleipnir and Jormungandr.”

“Yes, go on, laugh it up,” Loki glares but he has no hope it is not half-hearted at best. Oddly enough, it is now, dropping to one knee to card his fingers through grey fur softer than it should possibly be, that he first believes this might not end in flames yet. “But let us not forget what they did remember correctly– like the time you lost Mjolnir and had to pretend to be a giant’s bride.”

_ “You lost my hammer?” _

Hela sounds mildly upset but her eyes are amused, no longer clouded over by the thousands of years of loneliness, by a madness not unlike his. Loki fell into the Void, but Hela had been trapped in a void of her own. Now, it will not be too long before she gets to be free once more, for better or for worse.

In any case, the future does not look entirely bleak if one looks from this moment. They are all together and there have been little to no violent threats. If he were anyone else, Loki might even call it  _ nice. _

And besides, in a thousand years from now, who knows gods of what they will be known as.


	2. 'till the morning breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> time passes, Hela takes up gardening, and, to no one's surprise, Loki stays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone on tumblr asked me if i was gonna continue this au into infinity war-endgame, so instead of a solid answer, I gave them this. i might continue, though. quarentine is happening, so lots of free time, i guess? in any case, stay safe, y'all

Odin's funeral comes and goes like the flaming arrow that lights up his boat: swiftly and with a blazing streak across the skies that remains burned into Loki's eyelids long after the after images should have faded.

The hollowness that sits hungrily on his chest follows its lead, clawing behind his ribs and demanding his attention. 

In any case, it's on his nature to be contrary, so Loki firmly ignores it and pointedly does not try to untangle the knot of emotions that weighs him down. Instead, he chooses to focus on another absence at the dinner table.

"Now," he says, staring at the murals they have not yet decided what to do with– painting over them feels wrong, but leaving them in the open feels just as upsetting. Loki has half a mind to demolish the whole thing. "This is just getting ridiculous."

"Maybe she hasn't noticed yet," Thor murmurs beside him, quieter than Loki's ever heard him. "Maybe she thinks he still lives."

“You don’t believe that,” he scoffs.

_ “You  _ don’t believe that,” replies Thor, sullenly. It’s been five minutes since they’ve last encountered some nobleman or other seeking either pointless answers or having some entirely uninteresting news to report. Loki is beginning to grow suspicious; in his time on the throne, five minutes of solitude had been a rare blessing.

“It doesn’t matter what I believe in,” Loki waves him off, glancing away from these dreadful paintings. His stomach rolls unpleasantly. “This will not fix itself and neither of us has been to see her in days.”

Thor bristles. “Father has–”

The words die on his throat, halted with a crushing grief that Loki wants to be about as far away as possible. Thor’s sentimentality has a way of catching. And yet, he finds himself foolishly rooted to the floor. “I know,” he says, voice unwillingly softer, “I know, I don’t mean it accusingly. But we need to deal with Hela, sooner rather than later.”

With a weary sigh, Thor drags a hand across his face. “Something also needs to be done about these murals, I hate the sight of them,” he shakes his head as if that could dispel all the wrong that seems to have settled over their lives as of late. “No matter! This shall wait while we pay our sister a long overdue visit!”

_ Long overdue  _ might be a little exaggerated, but at least Thor has seen the wisdom on his suggestion. Allowing Hela to stew on her own, to make her plans with only her half of the story, well– they all saw how  _ that  _ turned out for him in the past. For everyone, in fact, and–

“My king,” a servant bows demurely, looking nervously between the two of them, and Loki has seen enough of this to know the Bifrost will be carrying only one of them today. “Lord Asmund has asked for your counsel over a disagreement among the Council.”

“I– thank you,” Thor says, clearing his throat, “but I’m afraid I’m far too busy at the moment, tell the Council I’ll be with them shortly, as soon as I have returned.”

The itch to smack his brother across the head is great, but somehow, Loki finds it in himself to wait until the servant has scurred away. Too dangerous to do anything undermining to his brother’s rule so soon into his regency. “Don’t be daft,” he rolls his eyes, “you can’t afford to slight your Council this early, especially considering the current affronts you’ve made against their wishes.”

_ “What,”  _ it brings him up short and Loki raises one eyebrow, unimpressed, spreads his hands as if to gesture himself.

“Do you truly think they  _ want  _ me here, brother?” He sighs, “they will not be happy about Hela either. In fact, it would be in your best interests to exile the two us before the Court sees you taking in yet another monster.”

The smack across  _ his  _ head comes as a shocking surprise.  _ “Have you lost your mind? Or perhaps you wish to lose that hand?!” _

“I will tolerate no insults to my family,” Thor replies calmly,  _ smugly,  _ “much less coming from my family.”

Loki glowers, far too much happening for him to keep track. That, too, he ignores violently. Instead, he focuses on his irritation. “You’re a fool and I will remind you I warned you now when this inevitably leads to disaster.”

Thor laughs. “Of course you will, brother. Now, let’s go see our sister.”

“No,” he says, haughtily pushing him towards the hallway the servant had disappeared back into, “I will go see Hela alone while you see to your Council.”

Perhaps, had he had the chance, Thor might have protested, but as it is, by the time he realizes an illusion has been telling him that, Loki is nearly too far to hear his enraged cry, the glittering of the rainbow bridge already twinkling in the distance.

*

Helheim is still as dreadful as ever, greying and dark, and Loki hates this place more than on principle. A thousand years here, it’s a miracle Hela has clung to any shreds of sanity– it makes him wonder what did Odin think of the future; he locked her here and then what? Did the old man think he would live forever?

“Why have you come this time, little brother?” Hela’s voice is standoffish and cool, uninterested down to the vowels. Loki firmly does not listen to the faint voice in his head, so much like Frigga’s, pointing out how much alike she sounds to him right now.

They did not grow up together nor heard stories of each other and yet, a stranger in the streets would certainly mistake them for siblings after listening for five minutes.

“That’s not the right question now, is it?” He hums, turning around to see Hela lounging in a conjured throne with Fenrir at her feet. She looks well, less pale than before, less hungry, less like a lingering ghost. More solid, more  _ real.  _ It should probably be more frightening than he feels it is. 

Hela snorts, rolling her eyes. “I suppose you expect me to ask next what it is, then,” she cards her fingers through grey fur, unsettlingly in good spirits, “very well, I’ll humor you this once– what should I be asking?”

He narrows his eyes in suspicion for a second before deciding to go for a milder approach. “The real question is not why am  _ I  _ here, but why are  _ you?”  _

Her good mood vanishes at his words. “Where else would I be?” 

“The Allfather is gone,” he points out needlessly, gestures the barren landscape around them, “you don’t have to stay here anymore.”

“Indeed,” she says, “and I daresay Odin would just  _ love  _ to see me leaving my prison now that he is gone to bring Asgard down. No, I don’t think so. I’m not playing into his games anymore.”

“There are more choices besides staying here or destroying an entire realm, you know.”

Her eyes flash dangerously. “If you think I’ll return to that place in chains, a prisoner where once I ruled, you are terribly wrong. A gilded cage is still a cage and at least here, I don’t have to withstand those ancient fools prattling about.”

Loki studies her for a moment, taking the chance to collect his thoughts; this is the first time he’s on this side of this speech, you see. In hindsight, perhaps he should have let Thor come along, he certainly has more experience handling this.

_ Oh well,  _ it’s not like he can say she is wrong, he supposes.

“Thor would say Asgard is not a cage,” he says, “and ask you to come home immediately. He’s a bit upset you missed the funeral.”

“That one is a fool,” Hela waves him off, “am I to understand you are here to do the same?”

“No, I like to think I know better,” Loki shrugs, dusting off his armor to prepare himself for the travel back. Nothing more to do here today, better not to rush her. “You’re right in one matter, sister– the Court truly is full of decrepit imbeciles.”

Fenrir lifts his head lazily, tail wagging once as Hela laughs, and Loki calls for Heimdall, allowing the blaze of light to sweep him back home.

*

“Where’s Hela?” Thor frowns, breaking off from where he had been talking with the Warriors Three and the distance does nothing to soften Sif’s distrustful glare.  _ Fair enough.  _

“In her prison,” he answers calmly, not bothering to stop but slowing his steps, “although she seems to have regained her full power. I think I saw some trees there this time.”

“What?” Thor makes a face, “does she know–”

“Yes, she’s aware.”

“And she wants to stay where she is?”

Loki thinks of the depressing landscape, Fenrir’s tail blowing thin dust into the air each time it hit the ground, the unnatural taste of the forever dim lights. No one wants to stay stuck in an eternal twilight, at the edge of a nightmare. “No, she does not.”

_ “No, she does n– _ you are making no sense, brother,” Thor sighs, huffs, and he looks very tired, worn as Loki has never seen him. Even in his worst days as King, Loki can’t remember looking so exhausted, old. Then again, he didn’t care half as much, didn’t want much more than keeping the peace and send those blasted stones about as far as he could trust someone to hide them.

And, well, if he’s being honest, he had never expected to reign for so long. A few months, maybe, but not years. Thor, he expects, has millenniums to look forward to.

Good thing neither of them is a seer, truly.

“Give it time,” he offers, catching sight of some harried lord of other he never bothered to learn the name, and ducks into a different hallway, parting ways to return to his room. Still, he calls behind his shoulder, “and stop avoiding your meetings!”

*

“You again,” Hela purses her lips. Today, Fenrir is off chasing rabbits; if he pays attention, Loki thinks he can hear the anguished cries and the tear of fur and flesh.

“Me again,” he agrees cheerily, taking a seat into the newly made garden. It looks a little like Frigga’s, if less gentle, less idyllic. Wilder, poison ivies strangling trees and roots upending the earth. “You will not believe what happened today.”

“Do tell, but only if it’s interesting,” she says, watching flies buzz around, a dead bird attracting the lot of them. “How fares our dear brother in the throne?”

“Surprisingly not disastrously,” Loki admits, “do you want to hear it or not?”

“Not particularly. Since I so clearly am not going to be the queen, why should I care for Asgard?” Her tone is cavalier, dismissive, but he hears the undercurrent of hurt there, the spiteful resignation– yes, she wouldn’t be Odin’s blood-thirsty monster, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, wouldn’t wreak the havoc he had expected her to, but at what cost? She’s making a garden out of her prison, but he wonders how much of herself is she losing with these illusions?

How much change until there’s nothing of yourself left?

He shakes his head. “It’s where your power comes from, is it not?”

“In a way,” she nods, “doesn’t mean I have to be embroiled into whatever court nonsense has you into such a tirade.”

Fenrir comes lumbering back, muzzle dripping with blood and tail wagging happily, more dog than feral beast. Loki turns his nose in disgust, huffs. “I feel I am the only one with sense in that place.”

“It would not come as a surprise. You seem to have  _ some  _ intelligence, I could not say the same for the rest of the court.”

“Thank you, sister, for the glowing review,” he drawls, rolling his eyes, then– a thought. “You should come home, help me help them not to run the city to the ground.”

Hela laughs. “I thought you were going to tell me a story, little prince.”

*

“Tonight there is a feast, will you come?”

“No, I don’t think I will,” says Hela, and Fenrir darts past them, a bloodied deer in his maw, still twitching every other second. “Will  _ you  _ attend?”

Loki grins, settling in one of the benches with the pile of books he had brought with him today. “People will certainly see me there.”

Hela rolls her eyes but picks one of the tomes. The poor lighting is terrible for reading, nothing a few witch lights can’t fix.

*

“Thor has a room made for you,” Loki points out, “it was garish at first, of course, but I had it redecorated.”

“Tell me, then, little brother, do these quarters come with how many guards at my door?”

“No guards, no,” he shrugs, “but I expect the Council will try to riddle it with spies. They certainly tried with mine.”

Hela hums. “Of course. I’d turn them into inside out and leave their entrails at the door. Or perhaps their heads in a spike?”

“I would think you’d sick Fenrir on them.”

“He deserves better than a traitor’s flesh.”

“Does that mean you are coming?”

“That means I would rather be left alone.”

*

“It’s been a fortnight, will you come home now?”

“No. Be careful with the nightshade, it’s been wilting lately.”

*

“Thor has been asking for you, he’s convinced the Council you will not be a threat to the Realm. No more than I, in any case. Will you come home?”

“I’m offended, I will not.”

*

It takes half a season for Thor to finally grow too impatient with his visits and if he’s being honest, Loki is only surprised it took him this long to corner him outside his room. “You’re off to see Hela again, aren’t you?”

“I did say I would take care of the situation, didn’t I?” He raises one eyebrow, eyeing his displeased scowl.

“Yes, yes, but,” Thor glares, sour to the bone, “you haven’t been to a Council meeting in forever! Maybe we should let her come to us when she is ready, give up on these fruitless visits.”

Loki rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. “What do you think I have been doing? You try convincing the Goddess of Death to do anything. She keeps conjuring the most hideous plants for her garden, but I believe I’m close to getting her to lose the corpse flowers.”

“Losing the–”

“You won’t want to know, they smell terrible, really, like rotting flesh. Even the blasted wolf hates it.”

Thor looks like he might want to protest or perhaps inquire further on Hela’s awful gardening plans, but a servant interrupts them again, reminding Thor of a meeting he seems to be almost late to. Good thing, really, that Loki has arranged for the staff to keep these reminders coming. It wouldn’t do for their king to be late, it gives time for gossip and scheming to brew.

And if the distrust, the suspicion Loki might be the one plotting behind Thor’s back with Hela to– _what? Destroy Asgard? Kill their brother? –_ well, it might sting, yes, but it’s not like he can blame him, not in light of the past decade, even the past few  _ months.  _

Still, Loki excuses himself cooly, trying not to allow unfair resentments to claw at his throat.

*

“If they are all constantly suspicious of you,” Hela says, a frown so much like Thor’s on her brow, “and it bothers you so, then why stay? You know the pathways between worlds, why not slip away from their petty grievances?”

Loki can’t help snorting; only Hela would call his crimes  _ petty. _

And yet, her question, as they often do, gives him pause. Why  _ did  _ he stay? He could have gone anywhere in the universe, thrown the tesseract in the nearest wormhole and run in the other direction. It wouldn’t have hidden him from the Titan, not forever, but neither will Asgard– which reminds him, he will have to warn his brother of this soon: Thanos’ madness will not spare their home, not even if Loki were a thousand miles away, if the Tesseract were a thousand miles away.

Soon isn’t today, though, so instead, he allows himself to faintly prod at the tangled knots of emotions he had been ignoring these past months. If he were someone else, someone more prone to feelings and such, he might say he stayed because pushing everything away had become too tiring on his shoulder, because he had died once, nearly twice, and when you die for somewhere, for someone, that has to count for something, because more often than not it feels like never stopped falling, but in Asgard, it’s easier to pretend there’s solid ground beneath his feet.

Because running away has only ever made things worse, so he chose to stay for once,  _ is  _ choosing to stay, and sometimes, he thinks it might be the same as choosing to his family and that could be enough because it’s on purpose.

“Because it’s worth it,” he tells Hela at last and watches her consider his words carefully, hesitant as she absently pets Fenrir, eyes far away to the sky like she’s seeing golden and blue instead of dulling greys. When she says nothing, he adds softly, “will you come home and see it for yourself?”

This time when he calls for Heimdall and the Bifrost strikes from the sky, the Guardian is there, steady and dependable, to welcome him home along with Hela, her ridiculously large wolf, and the stupid cactus in a yellow vase she carries in her hands. 

**Author's Note:**

> hey, if you liked it, you can always send me prompts or come talk to me about these dumb movies I'm too invested in on
> 
> [my tumblr.](http://evelyn-hugc.tumblr.com/)
> 
> and hey? thanks.


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